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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29574333">Cross my Heart and Hope to Die</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siancore/pseuds/Siancore'>Siancore</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Powers, Drugs, Everyone is a criminal, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Bucky Barnes, Gay Sam Wilson, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Russian Mafia, SamBucky Mob!AU, Violence, criminal activity, dark themes, shitty parents</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:13:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,476</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29574333</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siancore/pseuds/Siancore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Giorgiy Baranov, Russian Mafia Boss, is found dead. One bullet to the head; one to the chest. It’s a professional hit with no leads at first. His son, Bucky Barnes steps up as head of his family’s business.</p><p>He calls together the heads of each criminal outfit his father was allied with after the funeral. Whispers say Paul ‘The Preacher’ Wilson is the culprit, even though he and Baranov were friends and business partners. </p><p>If the rumors are true, Bucky knows what he has to do. He has to hurt The Preacher where it counts. An eye for an eye. A loved one for a loved one. A son’s life for a father’s. He has to kill The Preacher’s only son: Sam Wilson.</p><p>To do that, he must get close. Will he get too close and falter when it comes time to avenge his father? How can you commit a hateful act if your heart is overcome with love?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>198</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Now that I've finished The Boys of Summer, I am posting this. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Murphy Houses, Crotona Park East 4:13 AM</em>
</p><p>The flickering light in the dimly lit corridor does nothing to help the detectives currently squatting near the corpse that has bled out.</p><p>“Can we get those lights set up, please?” calls Detective Misty Knight as she squints to get a better look. The security cameras and overhead lights have been damaged, leaving the area darkened and the chance of catching the culprit that much more difficult.</p><p>A forensic technician brings a light fixed to a yellow stand and sets it up. Misty blinks a few times as her eyes adjust to the onslaught of brightness. She peers down at the body of the White male in his mid-sixties, a bullet wound to his chest; another between his eyes: A professional hit.</p><p>“Fuck,” she says, before standing back up.</p><p>“What is it?” asks her partner, Colleen Wing.</p><p>“Get Fury on the phone right now,” she says, trying to keep her composure. “Tell him someone’s assassinated Giorgiy Baranov. We’re about to have a gang war on our hands.”</p><p>xXxXx</p><p>
  <em>Undisclosed Location, Grozny, Chechnya 3:00 PM</em>
</p><p>The subtle whirring of the tattoo gun is the only sound in the room. Bogdan Baranov, more commonly known as Bucky Barnes, sits quietly staring at the newsfeed on the small, muted television screen fixed to the wall. His left arm feels numb from not having moved it in the past hour, but the tattoo artist is almost finished filling the large five-pointed star with red ink. It looks vibrant against the rest of his sleeve: Gigeresque biomechanical patterns covering the expanse from his shoulder to his wrist.</p><p><em>“Sdelano,” </em>says the artist, as she begins to clean and wrap his arm.</p><p>Baranov pays her without a word, pulls on his hoodie and leather jacket, and then leaves. He has a flight to catch and a funeral to attend.</p><p>xXxXx</p><p>
  <em>Private Residence, Brooklyn 9:32 PM</em>
</p><p>The whiskey that slides down Bucky’s throat is harsh, yet calming, as he sits behind his father’s desk in his father’s study. He and his best friend, Steve Rogers, are catching up.</p><p>“This is good shit, Stevie.”</p><p>“Yeah, well I thought you’d be sick of vodka, Buck.”</p><p>He laughs dryly and says, “No one’s called me that for almost five years.”</p><p>Steve gives him a mournful smile and says, “Yeah, well, you’re home now.”</p><p>They clink their glasses together and drink more of the fiery liquid. Just then, there is a rapping at the door.</p><p>“Come in,” Bucky calls out, and a tall, muscular man with a stern face steps inside.</p><p>“Mr. Baranov,” he says, glancing between Steve and Bucky. “The Preacher is on the line for you.”</p><p>He holds a cordless house phone out to Bucky who gestures for him to bring it nearer. Bucky takes the phone, excuses the man, and mouths to Steve, “Sorry, I gotta take this.”</p><p>Steve nods and refills their glasses.</p><p>“Hello? Mr. Wilson?”</p><p>“Hello, Bucky,” says the man on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry to call so late. I heard you were back Stateside and wanted to offer my condolences before the funeral tomorrow. Your father was a great man and dear friend of mine.”</p><p>“Thank you, Mr. Wilson.”</p><p>“I want you to know anything you need, manpower or my connections, just say the word,” Paul Wilson says in earnest.</p><p>“I appreciate that,” says Bucky. “There is one thing you can do for me.”</p><p>“Anything.”</p><p>“Can you call the heads of the other outfits who we do business with and tell them to stick around after the funeral? I’m callin’ a meeting.”</p><p>“Of course,” says Paul. “Can I ask why, son?”</p><p>“Someone knows who killed my father,” says Bucky, as he takes another sip of his drink. “And I intend to find out. Thank you, Mr. Wilson. I’ll see you tomorrow.”</p><p>xXxXx</p><p>The service flies by quickly. Bucky only remembers holding his kid sister’s hand and his mother resting her hand on his back. He doesn’t cry. Didn’t when he received the news. Didn’t even when he was alone. He won’t, especially not in front of all of these people. People who got up and spoke about his father like he was a generous man. A cornerstone of the community. An immigrant who came to America and worked hard to build a good life for himself. A family man, who provided for his wife and two children.</p><p>They left out the parts where he came to the country already an <em>Avtoritet </em>answering to the <em>Pakhan </em>in the Old Country. He was sent to establish a new drug trade, human trafficking, and guns for hire. He built a reputation in organized crime circles, but saw bigger things than what the <em>Pahkan</em> back home saw. He branched out and formed alliances. He befriended arms dealer, Paul ‘The Preacher’ Wilson, and together they built an empire. They laundered money through a handful of nightclubs and eventually invested in and took over a construction company in an attempt to have a lucrative, legitimate business. It also helped to bury bodies in the foundations of buildings when you had your people pouring the concrete.</p><p>They left out the part where his wife Winnifred left him, taking her children with her. How Bucky had gotten into trouble and moved back with his father who vowed to straighten him out. How Bucky only ever wanted to prove himself and please his father.  How he kicked Bucky’s ass and sent him off to Chechnya when he found out about him and some other boy fooling around together. How his son had only returned because this empire was his birthright and he still had something to prove.</p><p>…..</p><p>The rain pours down heavily from the grey, cloudy sky. Bucky holds the large, black umbrella over his mother and sister as he stands behind them and watches as his father’s coffin is lowered into the muddy earth. Bucky glances around at the so-called mourners. Heads of other crime outfits, or their representatives. He wonders to himself which one of his father’s allies and friends ordered the hit. It’s not so much about retribution, but the disrespect shown to his family that has Bucky fuming. Bucky has bled for his respect. He’s not going to let someone take it from him the way they snatched his father’s life away. There will be blood, he muses, and it will run through the streets of New York.</p><p>…..</p><p>“This is fucked up,” says Becca Baranov of the wake happening downstairs, as she takes a puff on the joint her older brother passes to her. “All of these fake ass people out here pretending that they loved Papa.”</p><p>“It’s about paying respects,” Bucky replies, his voice coming out strained and laced with a hint of an Eastern European accent.</p><p>“If anyone had respect anymore, we wouldn’t have buried him today,” she spits, handing the joint back to Bucky.</p><p>“C’mere,” he says, and holds his arms open for her; she falls into them and he hugs her tightly. “Stay up here and get some rest. I’m going into the meeting now. I’ll find out who killed Papa one way or another. I’ll handle it.”</p><p>Bucky presses a kiss to Becca’s forehead and then leaves her childhood bedroom. He makes his way down the stairs and into the common areas of their family home. People greet him and offer condolences as he passes. All he can think about is getting them out of there so that his mother will be able to rest.</p><p>He heads toward his father’s small meeting room and finds his best friend at the door. They shake hands and hug.</p><p>“Everyone in there?” asks Bucky.</p><p>“Yeah,” Steve replies.</p><p>“Alright,” Bucky offers as he straightens his tie. “Let’s get this over with.”</p><p>Steve opens the door and holds it as Bucky steps into the room. Everyone at the table stands as a show of respect. Bucky doesn’t regard any of them as he makes his way to the head of the table. He sits in the leather chair that used to be his father’s; Steve sits at his right and The Preacher at his left. Bucky’s a little startled to see Paul Wilson’s son, Sam, sitting next to him. He recovers quickly, and then addresses everyone.</p><p>“Thank you all for meeting with me today,” he starts, glancing around the room; his gaze meets Sam Wilson’s, and he holds it for a beat longer than he does with everyone else. “Let’s cut straight to the chase: My father was murdered. It was unauthorized. It was planned and it was professional.”</p><p>He looks around the table once more. Everyone is keeping a straight face. No one betrays what they are thinking in the moment, Bucky included.</p><p>“I’m here to step into my father’s place,” says Bucky, and a few people share unreadable looks with one another. “It’s my goddamn birthright. And as the head of this outfit, my first action is to stop the supply of product to everyone.”</p><p>“What? You can’t be serious,” says Alexander Pierce.</p><p>“Oh, I am <em>dead</em> serious, Mr. Pierce,” Bucky replies. “Someone murdered my father, and until I get some solid information on who that was, no one is getting anything from us. I’m not movin’ any weight until I find out who put the hit on my father.”</p><p>“Mr. Baranov, please, you have to see reason,” says Pierce. “We all have businesses to run. We have customers who we need to service. Cutting off our supply isn’t going to get you the answers you’re seeking.”</p><p>“Oh, but I think it will. And don’t bother trying to get another connect, word will get back to me, and there are still people out there who don’t want to step on my toes. There are still people who respect the laws that govern us. If I find out any of you have gone to any of my rivals, it’s not going to end well for you,” Bucky says as he stands; Steve stands next to him. “Now if you’d all please leave and don’t come to me unless you have information about my father’s murder.”</p><p>No one else says anything, but they all start to leave. The Preacher stays seated, but his son stands up.</p><p>“I’ll be out in a minute, Sam,” he says.</p><p>“Okay,” Sam replies, trying to keep his gaze averted even though he can feel Bucky’s eyes on him as he leaves.</p><p>“Well,” The Preacher starts. “That went better than I thought it would.”</p><p>“Yeah, but Pierce is gonna be a little bitch about it,” says Steve, as he pours some drinks for the three of them.</p><p>“He’s an entitled prick,” says Bucky as he takes the glass offered to him.</p><p>“We’ll need to watch him,” says The Preacher. “Can’t trust any information he gives us, either.”</p><p>They tap their glasses together as Bucky says, “Yeah, and I just need one reason to put a bullet in his head.”</p><p>…..</p><p>There is soft laughter coming from the kitchen as Bucky leans against the doorjamb. He watches as his mother and Sam Wilson wash dishes. Bucky lets his eyes roam over Sam’s form. He was a skinny kid the last time Bucky saw him. Kind of goofy. Now, it seems, he has filled out in all the right places. He is far from the bony teen whom Bucky used to play Mario Kart with to pass the time while their father’s made shady deals behind closed doors. Sam Wilson is all man now and Bucky can appreciate that.</p><p>He rolls up his sleeves and clears his throat. Sam turns, but his mother doesn’t.</p><p>“Mama, we’ve got staff to do that,” says Bucky as he approaches.</p><p>“I know, baby, but I feel like I have to do something,” Winnie replies.</p><p>Bucky moves closer and wraps his mother into a hug before kissing her hair and saying, “All you need to do is rest, Mama. Go on. We’ll finish up here.”</p><p>She dries her hands on a dishcloth, turns and cups her son’s face, before kissing his forehead.</p><p>“Okay,” says Winnie, before placing her hand to Sam’s arm and saying, “Thank you, Samuel. You’re a good boy.”</p><p>With that, she leaves the two young men standing side-by-side.</p><p>“You don’t have to do this,” says Sam, and his voice is deep and rich and rolls over Bucky like a caress. “I got it. You should rest, too.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Bucky replies as he holds out his hand for Sam to pass a dish to him.</p><p>“Okay then,” says Sam, as he hands the dish over. “Hey, I just wanted to say I’m really sorry about your dad.”</p><p>His voice sounds earnest and it’s the sincerest offer of commiseration that Bucky has heard since he has returned, besides from his best friend. He turns to take in Sam’s profile. The other man busies himself with washing.</p><p>“Thank you,” says Bucky quietly.</p><p>Silence pervades a moment until Bucky speaks again.</p><p>“I was surprised to see you here today with your dad,” Bucky admits. “Didn’t think you were in with the family business.”</p><p>Sam shrugs and then proffers a crooked smile.</p><p>“I’m more into being the public face of the business,” he says, and Bucky can see why: He’s stunning up close. “Don’t usually get my hands dirty, but I won’t shy away from it if I need to.”</p><p>Now Bucky smiles.</p><p>“Is that so?” he asks, his voice low with a hint of teasing that is highly inappropriate for a wake.</p><p>Sam looks at him, nods his head, and then turns back to the task at hand. He finishes washing the dishes and Bucky finishes drying them. Bucky notices Sam dragging his gaze over Bucky’s tattoos; he hangs up the dishcloth and leans against the sink. Sam places his hands in his pockets. There’s a tension between them that is palpable.</p><p>“Your ink,” Sam finally says, gesturing to Bucky’s sleeve. “It’s pretty badass.”</p><p>“Thanks, man,” says Bucky as he tucks his hair behind his ear, and then, lower, “If you ever wanna get a closer look, you just let me know.”</p><p>Sam lets out a little huff of a laugh and dips his head, his smile is wide and pretty; Bucky keeps his eyes locked on him.</p><p>“Is this what I think it is?” asks Sam, looking up and staring into Bucky’s steely eyes.</p><p>“What d’ya think it is?” asks Bucky, while licking his lips.</p><p>“I think you’re flirting with me,” Sam replies in hushed tones.</p><p>“Is that a problem?”</p><p>Sam bites his bottom lip and says, “Not at all.”</p><p>Bucky smiles and then reaches into his pocket to retrieve his phone.</p><p>“Can I get your number?”</p><p>“For what?” Sam asks with a hint of teasing.</p><p>“Well, it’s been forever since I’ve been back in New York,” says Bucky, leaning in closer. “Maybe I need someone to show me around.”</p><p>“What about your boy, Rogers? Can’t he show you around?” asks Sam, trying to play hard to get with the guy who buried one of his parents a few hours ago.</p><p> Bucky laughs, dips his head, and then looks up at Sam through his dark lashes before saying, “The thing about Stevie is he ain’t half as pretty as you.”</p><p>Just then, The Preacher steps into the kitchen. He walks over to where Sam and Bucky are standing. Sam instinctively takes a step back, and the tension between him and Bucky fades away and disappointment, on both their parts, replaces it.</p><p>The Preacher places a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and says, “You did well in there today. Let’s hope someone comes up with the information we need. We’re going to head out now. If you need anything, you let me know.”</p><p>“Thank you, Mr. Wilson,” Bucky replies, as they shake hands and then hug. “I appreciate you being here with me today.”</p><p>“Don’t even mention it,” Paul replies with a comforting smile. “Get some rest. I’ll see you soon.”</p><p>The Preacher begins to walk away. Sam offers Bucky a small smile and holds his hand out. Bucky takes it but doesn’t give it a shake.</p><p>They hold one another’s gaze a moment before Bucky says, “It was good seein’ you again, Sam.”</p><p>“Yeah, it was good to see you, too,” Sam says in earnest. “All things considered. I mean, it’s a shitty situation. I really am sorry for your loss.”</p><p>Bucky nods his head, somewhat intrigued by the fact the boy he knew from his childhood seems to be more forlorn about the situation than he is, and it’s <em>his</em> father’s wake.</p><p>“Like my dad said,” Sam adds. “If you need <em>anything</em>, just ask.”</p><p>“Thank you,” says Bucky while holding out his phone. “So, can I get your number?”</p><p>Sam takes the device and types in his details. He passes it back to its owner and says, “Hope to hear from you soon.”</p><p>Bucky watches him walk away as he says, “Trust me, you will.”</p><p>xXxXx</p><p>
  <em>Thrash Nightclub Meeting Room, Harlem 7:46 PM</em>
</p><p>“You’ve only been back and in charge for a month, Mr. Baranov,” says one of the men who was under his father’s command. “You sure this is the right call? We are already losing money because you cut off the drug supplies. Now you want to stop the pussy trade?”</p><p>“You said <em>we</em>.”</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“You said <em>we</em>,” Bucky repeats. “It’s not <em>we</em>, it’s <em>me</em>. I’m the one who has to worry about losses and what direction to take the business now that my father is gone. And it’s my choice. We’re not trading in human flesh anymore. The handlers and pimps, I want them wasted. Send in one of our female hitters, have her give the girls their IDs, and cut ‘em lose. Then we burn it all to the ground.”</p><p>“But Mr. Baranov –”</p><p>“Do you want to be burnt with the low life pimps?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Then I suggest you shut the fuck up,” Bucky says as he leans back in his chair. “Dugan, give the order. Everyone else, leave.”</p><p>Dugan sees everyone out of the room, leaves Bucky alone, and makes the call. Bucky takes a sip from his whiskey and pulls out his personal phone. He scrolls until he finds the conversation thread with Sam Wilson. He opens it and begins to type out a message.</p><p>Bucky: <em>Hey. I know you’re busy but what are your plans for tonight??</em></p><p>Seconds later, Sam replies.</p><p>Sam: <em>I’m too busy to be your tour guide </em>😊</p><p>He’s such a little shit, Bucky muses before sending his reply.</p><p>Bucky: <em>God you’re cute. That’s not what I’m texting you for. Was wondering if you wanted to come thru the club tonight?</em></p><p>Sam: <em>Which club? You own a few these days, Big Boss Man.</em></p><p>Bucky: <em>Haha. Whatever. I’m at Thrash. Official reopening.</em></p><p>Sam: <em>Aww well that means you’ll be too busy to kick back with the likes of me.</em></p><p>Bucky: <em>I’ll make time for you. Come on. Aren’t you tired of this back and forth?</em></p><p>Sam: <em>IDK. I kinda like it. Are you tired of me?</em></p><p>Bucky: <em>Never tired of you. Tired of texting. Just wanna see you again in the flesh where it aint my father’s funeral lmao</em></p><p>Sam: <em>God you have a morbid sense of humor.</em></p><p>Bucky: <em>Yeah but you like it.</em></p><p>Sam: <em>True. I like you too.</em></p><p>Bucky: <em>I like you more. But come on. You gonna come thru? Have a few drinks and shoot the shit with me?</em></p><p>Sam: <em>That’s all you’re offering?</em></p><p>Bucky: <em>Well what do you want? I’ll give you anything you want.</em></p><p>Sam: <em>Anything?</em></p><p>Bucky: <em>Yeah. Anything. </em></p><p>Sam: <em>Okay. Drinks and maybe a dance. Send a car for me. I’m bringing friends so put us on the VIP list.</em></p><p>Bucky: <em>OK. Done. </em></p><p>Sam: 😊 <em>thank you, Bucky x</em></p><p>Bucky: <em>You’re so welcome Pretty Boy. See you soon xx</em></p><p>xXxXx</p><p>
  <em>Thrash Nightclub Garage, Harlem 11:42 PM</em>
</p><p>The bass from the music inside <em>Thrash</em> is vibrating through the garage space underneath. Bucky and Steve watch as the car reverses in and the roller door closes. Bucky removes his black tailored jacket and shirt, before pulling on a plastic coverall that zips in the front. He sips his hands into latex gloves and then takes a pistol fitted with a silencer from Steve. They both step toward the car as Bucky taps the butt of the pistol on the trunk. It pops open. There is a young man, around Bucky’s age, bound and gagged inside. There’s blood coming from a wound on his forehead. He is struggling against his ties. His eyes are wide with fear. A bag packed with bricks of cocaine lies next to him.</p><p>“Let him speak,” says Bucky, as Steve removes the gag.</p><p>He begins to beg for his life right away, breathing heavily and sobbing. Bucky stares down at him.</p><p>“Please, Mr. Baranov. It wasn’t my idea. It wasn’t my fault. I was just following orders. Please.”</p><p>“Whose orders?”</p><p>“Mr. Pierce’s orders. He sent me to the Albanians to re-up.”</p><p>“Tape his mouth,” Bucky says to Steve, and the man begins to beg once more as Steve silences him.</p><p>“That greedy motherfucker,” says Steve. “What’re we gonna do?”</p><p>Before Bucky answers, he points the gun at the man in the trunk and pulls the trigger. The bullet hits him between the eyes, killing him instantly.</p><p>“Take the body and the bag and dump them on the steps of the school Pierce’s kids go to,” says Bucky as he removes the coveralls and wraps the gun inside the plastic.</p><p>“Burn these and the car,” he adds, before moving his gloves and tossing them on the gun. “Text my burner when it’s done. I don’t want anyone interrupting me for the rest of the night. I got plans.”</p><p>xXxXx</p><p>The beat from the music can be heard down the block. Sam and his friends, Carol and Maria, are let in ahead of the line by a doorman holding a tablet. Bands are placed to their wrists once inside. The place is packed and it’s a little after midnight. Sam and his friends push their way through the crowd and head towards the VIP area. They show their wristbands and are let through. They find a seat on one of the modular sofas and a waitress comes over. They place their orders and Sam pulls out his phone.</p><p>Sam: <em>We’re here in VIP. Where are you? Busy uh?</em></p><p>Bucky: <em>I saw you come in. I’m in upstairs VIP. Leave your friends and come join me.</em></p><p>Sam: <em>Okay. Meet me halfway.</em></p><p>…..</p><p>The two men stare at one another as the security guard lets Sam into the space just before the stairwell that leads to Bucky’s private VIP balcony. They share a smile as Bucky places two kisses to each side of Sam’s face in greeting; must be a European thing, Sam muses, even though his skin feels hot from the gesture.</p><p>“Hey,” says Sam.</p><p>“Hey,” Bucky replies, taking hold of his hand.</p><p>He goes to lead Sam up the stairs, but the other man stands in place. Bucky looks down at their hands, and then relinquishes his hold on Sam’s.</p><p>“Do you not want this, or?”</p><p>“No, I want this,” Sam replies, entwining his fingers with Bucky’s. “I just wanted to skip this part, where we shoot the shit.”</p><p>“Alright,” says Bucky, with a devilish grin on his handsome face. “What’d you wanna skip to?”</p><p>“How about we go back to my place and I show you?”</p><p>…..</p><p>The pair mostly keep their hands to themselves on the ride over to Sam’s place. Sam assumes Bucky must be kind of private when it comes to who he hooks up with, because all Sam has wanted to do since he laid eyes on him in the club was melt into him; press against him; be devoured by him, and all Bucky has done is hold his hand.</p><p>They ride mostly in companionable silence. Bucky checks his burner phone and is pleased when he is informed that the job has been done. Sam is texting his friends promising them he is okay and that he is on his way to an impromptu dick appointment.</p><p>“Sorry,” says Bucky, as he puts the phone away. “Work stuff.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Sam replies, putting his phone in his pocket. “Had to convince my friends I was okay. They’re not impressed I ditched them.”</p><p>“Send this to them and tell ‘em their drinks are on me,” Bucky replies as he takes his personal phone out and sends a barcode to Sam, who blesses him with a wide smile.</p><p>…..</p><p>When they step out of the elevator, Sam switches on the lights and some music begins to play; he then kicks off his shoes. Bucky does the same, looks around the place, and then gives Sam a small grin.</p><p>“Grab a seat,” says Sam, pointing to the sofa. “I’ll fix us a drink.”</p><p>Bucky nods, removes his jacket, and rests it over the back of the couch. He takes a seat and watches as Sam grabs glasses and a bottle.</p><p>Sam brings their drinks, places them on the coffee table, and then takes a seat. There’s some space between him and Bucky, still, Bucky looks at him with a roguish glint in his eyes and says, “What’re you doin’ all the way over there? Come a little closer, baby.”</p><p> Sam bites back a smile and slides over nearer to Bucky. They are pressed against one another. Bucky reaches his hand up and runs his thumb over Sam’s cheek. His gaze falls from Sam’s eyes to his lips as he leans in close to Sam’s ear and whispers, “You’re so goddamn pretty. Can I kiss you?”</p><p>He draws back slightly to see Sam swallow hard, nod his head, and say, “Yes.”</p><p>Bucky smiles and runs his thumb over Sam’s lips before capturing them with his own. The kiss isn’t at all tentative or soft. It is claiming and passionate as Bucky licks into Sam’s mouth and laps at his tongue. Sam moans into Bucky’s mouth and grips at his shirt. Their kiss is searing and wet, desperate yet focused. Bucky reaches for Sam and drags him into his lap without breaking their kiss. He snakes his hand up underneath Sam’s shirt, hungry for the contact. His skin feels warm and Bucky wants to touch and kiss him all over.</p><p>They pull apart briefly and Bucky stares up into Sam’s eyes before he drags Sam’s shirt up and removes it from his body. He runs his hands up and down Sam’s back, and then up his sides, before palming at his chest. Bucky leans forward and presses a biting kiss to Sam’s pec, indenting his skin before licking his wet, pink tongue over where he has marked him. He brings his tongue to Sam’s nipple, lapping at him until he moans out loud. Bucky kisses his way up to Sam’s collarbone and then to his neck, sucking at the sensitive skin.</p><p>“Fuck,” says Sam as he grinds himself against Bucky’s stiffening cock. “We gotta take this to the bedroom.”</p><p>Weakly, Sam slides off of Bucky’s lap and takes hold of both of his hands. He drags him to his feet and then leads him to his room.</p><p>…..</p><p>Sam is sitting on the edge of his bed, stripped down to his briefs, as Bucky stands in front of him, holding his gaze while unbuttoning his shirt. Sam reaches for his belt and begins to undo it before unzipping his pants for him. The garment falls to the floor as Bucky steps out of his pants and kicks them away. He unbuttons his cuffs and removes his shirt. Sam’s eyes roam over his toned, muscular body, taking in the tattoos that adorn him, set striking against his pale skin. He reaches out a hand to press to Bucky’s chest, ghosting his fingers over the sacred heart tattoo. Sam then trails his hand down to the letters inked over Bucky’s abs that read: <em>Sinner. </em></p><p>“They’re gorgeous,” Sam whispers, almost to himself.</p><p>Bucky places his hand under Sam’s chin and tilts his head up so that their eyes meet and says, “<em>You’re</em> gorgeous.”</p><p>He leans down to press a searing kiss to Sam’s lips. They draw apart and Bucky straightens his posture, still staring down at Sam as he slips Bucky’s boxer shorts from off his hips. His thick, stiff cock springs forward, so close to Sam’s face. Sam takes hold of Bucky’s hardness and gives him a few deft strokes before licking his tongue over the full length of Bucky’s dick. Bucky places his hand to the back of Sam’s head and rubs small circles with his thumb as Sam hollows his cheeks and sucks Bucky’s big hard cock into his warm wet mouth.</p><p>…..</p><p>Morning light creeps steadily into Sam’s bedroom windows as the owner of the room sleeps soundly on the bed, thoroughly sated after being fucked into oblivion by Bucky the night before. Bucky watches him, still finding it kind of unbelievable that the devastatingly beautiful man lying there is the same awkward, goofy boy who was his sort-of-but-not-really-friend from his youth. Their fathers were friends, they were just forced together when the occasion called for it. Their lives were kind of the same, Bucky supposes: Sons of criminals. Except, their lives aren’t really the same. Sam’s father used <em>his</em> money to send <em>his</em> son off to Harvard to get an MBA. Bucky’s father sent him to Chechnya to fight for his life and prove he could be ruthless.</p><p>Just then, Bucky is drawn from his musing by his burner phone buzzing on the nightstand next to him. He takes one more look at Sam Wilson, before rolling over, sitting up, and answering his phone quietly.</p><p>“Yeah?” he says in hushed tones.</p><p>“We got a lead,” says Steve on the other end. “Someone from Rumlow’s crew says they know who ordered the hit on your old man.”</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“Listen, man, we gotta look into it and we don’t know if this motherfucker is tellin’ the truth –”</p><p>“Stevie,” Bucky says impatiently, but quietly so as not to rouse Sam from his slumber. “Fuckin’ tell me already.”</p><p>“They said it was The Preacher, Buck.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“They said it was Paul Wilson.”</p><p>Bucky makes no reply but ends the call. His head is spinning. This can’t be true. Paul Wilson and his father were friends and business partners. A dull aching sets in at Bucky’s temples as he processes this new information. Then he remembers where he is and who he is with.</p><p>He turns to look at a sleeping Sam before gathering his clothes up, dressing himself in the hallway, and slipping away. If The Preacher was responsible for his father’s murder, then Bucky has to retaliate. He knows this. It’s how things are done in their world. He knows what he must do: He has to hurt The Preacher where it counts. An eye for an eye. A loved one for a loved one. A son’s life for a father’s. If the rumor is true, he has to kill The Preacher’s only son, Sam Wilson.</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Some interesting information comes to light after Bucky and Steve do some digging. Sam is not impressed with Bucky for taking off while he was sleeping.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to everyone who gave this AU a chance. I love you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>42<sup>nd</sup> Precinct, The Bronx 8:09 AM</em>
</p>
<p>Typing with the index finger of each hand, Misty Knight logs into her work computer. Colleen places a steaming coffee on her partner’s desk and then takes up a seat across from her. Just as she is about to take a sip, her desk phone rings.</p>
<p>“Knight?” she answers, narrowing her gaze at her computer that needs to be reset, much to her chagrin.</p>
<p>“Hey, Misty, it’s Luke Cage.”</p>
<p>“Hey, Luke. Why’re you callin’ me this early in the day?” she asks with a playful tone, despite not having her caffeine fix for the day.</p>
<p>“You still got Baranov’s murder, or did they make you hand it over to Major Case Squad?” he asks.</p>
<p>“It’s still with me, why, you got some information for me?”</p>
<p>“Might be nothin’, but a body was dumped at Regis High School in the early hours of this morning,” Luke explains.</p>
<p>“Okay, got an ID on the body? Are they linked to Baranov’s outfit?”</p>
<p>“Not directly. He was most likely a street level soldier and there was a bag filled with bricks of coke near him,” says Luke. “Still tryin’ to link him to one of the outfits, but what’s the bet that one of these assholes has children at Regis? I think you’re right. I think this might be the start of a gang war.”</p>
<p>xXxXx</p>
<p>
  <em>569 Leaman Place, Brooklyn Heights 8:43 AM</em>
</p>
<p>“Sorry you missed your morning run,” says Bucky to Steve as the former takes a seat at their kitchen table. His hair is still damp from his shower. The tank top he is wearing means his tattoos are on display, plus some other markings. Steve sees the hickeys and smirks at his best friend.</p>
<p>“I was too damn tired anyways,” Steve replies before gesturing toward Bucky’s neck where Sam left suck marks. “Looks like you had a big night, too.”</p>
<p>Bucky only smiles as he pours cereal and milk into his bowl. Steve notices the smile, too.</p>
<p>“So, who’s the guy?” asks Steve while eating his own breakfast. “Anyone I know? Please don’t tell me it’s one of the young guys who work at the club?”</p>
<p>Bucky shrugs and shovels food into his mouth.</p>
<p>“Nah. Just some guy. Probably won’t see him again unless he comes by the club,” says Bucky. “Which reminds me: Is Barton gonna come by later with last night’s earnings or did he bank it? I thought I said I wanted you to do all the banking?”</p>
<p>“You did, and he’ll be here in the next thirty minutes or so, actually,” Steve explains.</p>
<p>Bucky nods his head and falls silent again as his phone vibrates against the table. He grabs it before his nosy best friend can be even nosier. Glancing quickly, Bucky can see that the message is from Sam.</p>
<p>“I’m meeting with my father’s accountant later,” says Bucky, ignoring the message and putting his phone in his pocket. “Finally hearing about his other businesses and accounts.”</p>
<p>“Why’d it take so long?” asks Steve.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Bucky replies with a forlorn expression on his face. “Probably because they had to dig through the legitimate business shit and then the other stuff. Plus, he was murdered, so there’s that. Slows things down, I guess. Didn’t receive the death certificate until the other day. It’s like they’re fuckin’ with us. Shit’s goin’ so slow. Hell, I still don’t know how many shares I own in which businesses. The clubs were easy thanks to you, man. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”</p>
<p>“Don’t even mention it,” Steve replies. “And this makin’ you wait nonsense is bullshit.”</p>
<p>“True, and I gotta admit, I’m not exactly business-minded, if you know what I mean,” Bucky says as he narrows his eyes out of habit. “I just wanna know what’s mine and figure out to do with the rest of it.”</p>
<p>His phone buzzes once more. Feels like it’s burning a hole through his pocket.</p>
<p>“Plus, we gotta figure out what to do with the information about The Preacher,” Steve reminds him.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we get a meeting with the person who snitched?”</p>
<p>“I mean, it’s doable. But what if he’s too scared?” asks Steve. “Word’s gotten around about the body we dropped last night. People are probably thinkin’ it was us.”</p>
<p>“That’s sorta the idea, Stevie.”</p>
<p>Steve nods.</p>
<p>“What are we gonna do if Pierce hits us back?”</p>
<p>“Over a foot soldier?”</p>
<p>“And his dope,” Steve reminds Bucky.</p>
<p>“Yeah, okay. Look, right now, he doesn’t have the manpower. He ain’t makin’ the money to hire more guns. He’s gonna sit back and take it.”</p>
<p>“What about the Albanians?”</p>
<p>“Like they give a fuck,” says Bucky, hearing his phone go off again. “They got their money.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but I mean what’re we gonna do about them? They sold to your buyers; stepped on your toes.”</p>
<p>“True. Do you think you can arrange a meeting with their boss?” asks Bucky.</p>
<p>“I can try,” says Steve, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “They don’t know you, so it might take a little finessing on my part.”</p>
<p>Bucky nods his head and replies, “Well, you’re the one who has finesse out of the both of us, so I know you got this.”</p>
<p>Bucky’s phone vibrates once more, and this time he takes it out to read the message and reply.</p>
<p>Sam: <em>Hey. </em></p>
<p>Sam: <em>So you disappeared this morning. </em></p>
<p>Sam: <em>That bad uh? </em>☹</p>
<p>Sighing, Bucky rubs the back of his thumb over his forehead.</p>
<p>Bucky: <em>Not at all. You were great. I had a real nice time. Sorry about taking off. I had to get work done. Was our reopening last night. Had to come and check the earnings.</em></p>
<p>Sam: <em>Oh. Okay.</em> <em>Well I’ll leave you to get on with your work. </em></p>
<p>Bucky stares down at the phone screen and tries to think of what to say next. He doesn’t want the conversation to end, but it’s probably a bad idea. No, it’s <em>definitely</em> a bad idea. Should he be texting Sam Wilson when he might have to get rid of him? Shouldn’t he hate him? He swallows hard as a frown sets in deep on his brow. What have they gotten themselves into? Bucky really needs to stop thinking with his dick and use his brain. He needs to get all the information about The Preacher and his alleged involvement in his father’s death before he pursues anything else with Sam. Does he even <em>want</em> something more with Sam?  He figures he has a lot to think about.</p>
<p>Bucky: <em>OK. I’ll text you later. </em></p>
<p>xXxXx</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam sits in his corner office and stares out at the view. He is one of the youngest CEOs in New York City. The buildings that are going up around him all carry the large initials <em>WC</em> denoting Wilson Construction. He has investors from all over the world; a silent partner who seems happy to remain silent; he owns his own apartment and pays his own way with <em>clean</em> money. Yet, here he is in a mood because some dude he used to know as a kid wasn’t texting him back quick enough after they slept together. <em>Fuck that</em>, Sam thinks as he places his phone away and tries not to dwell on the fact that the excitement of their hook-up may have just fizzled out. Still, his mind drifts back to the night before.</p>
<p>
  <em>Sweat causes both Sam and Bucky’s skin to glisten in the soft lighting of Sam’s bedroom. Bucky grips the other man’s hips tightly as he thrusts into him from behind. Sam rests his head against his folded arms as he leans against the pillow, face down, ass up, as Bucky drives his hard dick into Sam’s tight heat. The sounds of skin smacking against skin mingles with their deep, pleasured moans. Bucky’s thrusts become more frantic as he draws nearer to his climax; his own attentions adding more delicious pressure to Sam’s spot with each desperate push. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Fuck,” he moans while digging his nails into Sam’s searing flesh. “Fuck.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Soon, the heat that is building seems to envelop him. Bucky’s head feel light as his balls tighten and soon he is coming; he is coming hard. His load fills the condom and he collapses on top of a whimpering Sam. He doesn’t withdraw his spent cock, instead he fights to catch his breath but still has the presence of mind to reach around and take hold of Sam’s pulsing length. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It only takes a few deft strums and Sam is spilling his seed over Bucky’s hand on onto the towel on the bed. Bucky kisses Sam’s sweat covered back and then pulls out. He removes the condom, ties it off, and drops it to the floor before rolling to his back, still panting. Sam lies face down for a beat as his orgasm ripples through him and the last of his come spurts from his trembling dick. He still hasn’t caught his breath when Bucky is reaching for him and pulling him close. </em>
</p>
<p>xXxXx</p>
<p>Bucky is ready and dressed for the day when Clint Barton, the manager of <em>Thrash,</em> comes by with the previous night’s earnings. They did very well. Bucky is pleased with their take. They’ll be open again that night as well. He hopes they’ll do the same or better.</p>
<p>“Was there any trouble after I left?” Bucky asks.</p>
<p>“Nah. Everything went as it normally would for a reopening,” Barton explains. “I’m expecting the same numbers tonight. Will you be there?”</p>
<p>“I don’t think so,” says Bucky. “Have a few things I need to take care of, but you did well, Clint. I think this is gonna work out well.”</p>
<p>xXxXx</p>
<p>
  <em>Undisclosed Location 3:54 PM</em>
</p>
<p>The heat from the blazing furnace causes Bucky to remove his jacket. He finishes his cigarette and then flicks it into the flames. Another muffled grunt fills the air as Steve’s gloved fist comes in contact with the man currently bound to the chair in the basement. Steve punches him in the stomach again as Bucky repeats his question.</p>
<p>“How do you know The Preacher put the hit on my father?”</p>
<p>“I can’t say who said it,” he replies. “Just follow the money, man. Follow the money.”</p>
<p>“What fuckin’ money?” asks Bucky, losing his patience.</p>
<p>“Who stood to gain from havin’ your father out of the way, uh? Not any of the street crews. Not any of the other families. Think about it. Just think about it.”</p>
<p>Bucky feels a headache settling in. Steve steps closer to him and leans in to whisper.</p>
<p>“What d’ya wanna do with this prick?” asks Steve.</p>
<p>Bucky sighs, looks at the snitch, and then back at his friend.</p>
<p>“Cut him lose,” says Bucky, as if he’s disappointed that he won’t get to put a bullet in his head. “You go back to whoever the fuck gave you your information, and you tell them I wanna meet.”</p>
<p>Bucky steps towards him and reaches into his own pocket. He removes the guy’s license and holds it in front of his face before continuing to say, “Otherwise I’ll get some bad people to pay you a little visit. Do we have an understanding?”</p>
<p>Looking pale, the guy nods his head. Bucky clenches his jaw and then backhands him in the mouth; he makes a sound like a kicked dog.</p>
<p>“I said, do we have an understanding?” Bucky repeats as he glares at the man.</p>
<p>“Yes, sir,” he replies shakily. “We have an understanding.”</p>
<p>Steve cuts him lose, and the beaten and bruised man wastes no time in rushing away from his captors. Bucky places the license back in his pocket and gestures to Steve to move.</p>
<p>“What d’we do now?” Steve asks as he falls in stride with his friend.</p>
<p>Bucky glances sideways at Steve and says, “We follow the money.”</p>
<p>xXxXx</p>
<p>
  <em>Private Residence, Brooklyn 4:23 PM</em>
</p>
<p>All this talk of money is giving Bucky a headache. His father’s accountant, now <em>his</em> accountant, goes through how much Bucky has actually inherited, officially and <em>un</em>officially. She explains that both Baranov’s held joint accounts, which Bucky was unaware of, both in the United States and offshore. He learns that, in addition to the nightclubs, his father owned a number of smaller businesses like a laundromat, restaurant, and bar. He was not only the owner of said businesses, but the buildings that they occupied as well. Then there are the residential properties. The family home is in Winnie’s and Becca’s name; there’s an apartment and condo in Bucky’s name; and a handful of rental properties in both of his children’s names. It’s a lot for Bucky to process.</p>
<p>“Can I ask a dumb question?” Bucky queries.</p>
<p>“No questions are dumb, Mr. Baranov.”</p>
<p>“Right, so, these properties and businesses, don’t I have to wait until my father’s will is ready to be read or whatever?”</p>
<p>“No,” the accountant replies. “These businesses and properties have your name on the deeds and all of the paperwork. Since your father was also your business partner, you are majority owner now. Just like – let me see. Here.”</p>
<p>Says the accountant as she goes through a pile of paperwork.</p>
<p>“This company here, Wilson Construction,” she explains. “Your father was a silent partner.”</p>
<p>“So, now I’m a silent partner?” asks Bucky, taking note of the name of the company.</p>
<p>“Not exactly,” she proffers. “You weren’t ever listed as an owner or partner, therefore the sole ownership goes to a Director and a CEO.”</p>
<p>“Who are they?”</p>
<p>She glances down at the document again and then says, “A Samuel Thomas Wilson.”</p>
<p><em>Goddamn it, </em>Bucky thinks, his headache worsening. Looks like he is going to have to kill both The Preacher and his son. Which is unfortunate because Bucky kind of likes Sam Wilson, he muses, as he thinks back to the night they spent together.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>They lay together after coming down from the high of their vigorous fucking. Sam with his head on Bucky’s arm, tracing his fingers over his inked skin. The tips of his fingers cause goosebumps to rise on Bucky’s body. He doesn’t mean to have that reaction to Sam’s gentle touch, it’s just been so long since anyone has touched him without wanting to hurt him. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Do they have any special meanings?” Sam asks of the patterns and artwork adorning Bucky’s body. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Bucky shrugs and says, “I just like how they look, I guess. Doesn’t have to be some deep meaning behind them.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“So, you’re tellin’ me none of them have meanings?” asks Sam, still tracing the images. “Like these things, what do they mean? Did you serve in the military or something?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Sam points to Bucky’s shoulder where an elaborate epaulet sits strikingly. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Nah, not really,” Bucky replies. “It’s more of a Bratva thing.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Uh?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Russian Mob.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Sam’s eyes go wide. He doesn’t get to spend much time around the criminal element of his family’s business. His father invested a lot of time, money, and energy to ensure that Sam made his money legitimately, with the help of his father’s dirty money, of course. His father spoke about the other side of the business in hushed tones. Sam was surprised that Bucky was speaking so openly about it now. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Wow. So, you trust me enough to talk about this.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You’re not a snitch or somethin’?” asks Bucky with a straight face, but a hint of teasing to his tone.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Not at all. It’s just that I’m in the family business but not in it in it, if you know what I mean?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You’re family-business-adjacent,” Bucky replies after a moment. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yeah, so you can trust me with certain things,” Sam avows. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Plus, our fathers were close,” Bucky adds, as if convincing himself to talk about his lifestyle with Sam. He hasn’t really had that luxury with other men he has been intimate with. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“We got pretty close just now,” Sam teases, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s chest.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Bucky smiles and pulls him in for a kiss to his lips.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yeah, I guess we did,” he says with a wider grin. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“So, tell me, what do they mean?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“They’re prison gang tats, originally.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Wait, you did time?” asks Sam, a little taken aback by this knowledge. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yeah, but not here. Prisons here are like a fuckin’ cakewalk compared to where I was locked up.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You were in Russia, or something? My dad mentioned it before I went off to college.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Chechnya,” says Bucky, like the word tastes bitter on his tongue. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Fuck,” says Sam. “That’s hardcore. Can I ask why, or we’re not that close yet?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Bucky chuckles a little. Sam really is cute. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Want the full story or the Reader’s Digest version?” Bucky asks, pulling Sam closer to him. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Whatever you wanna tell me,” says Sam, allowing himself to be pulled closer. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Well, I guess I could tell you from the start,” says Bucky, running his hand absently over Sam’s arm. “You had much to do with my old man?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Sam shrugs and says, “Sure, but not like how my dad did.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“And you’re out, right?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yeah. Why? You tellin’ me he was a raging homophobe?” asks Sam as he tickles Bucky’s side. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Bucky squirms a little and then smacks Sam’s ass, before saying, “Well, one time, my old man found me and some guy on his knees in front of me suckin’ my soul out. So, he beat my ass, then sent me off to Chechnya to straighten out. Ended up getting busted doin’ routine Bratva shit. Spent eighteen months in prison. Before I went in, they said to get the epaulet tats because it would show the other inmates that even though I was American, I was still a higher up in the Bratva and shouldn’t be fucked with, so it wasn’t all bad, I suppose. Anyway, ended up with a fascination for the tattoos.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Okay, wow. That’s a lot to process,” says Sam, leaning up on his elbow and looking down at Bucky. “Are you okay, after all that?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Bucky gives Sam a small, plaintive smile and says, “Y’know, you’re the only person who’s asked me?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Sam knits his brow and runs his hand over Bucky’s face.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“That sucks,” he says quietly. “So, are you okay?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yeah,” Bucky replies with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Fuckin’ peachy, sweetheart.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>They stare at one another for a moment, before Sam rests his head on Bucky’s chest, right over the sacred heart tattoo.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Did they keep you safe?” Sam asks, and his voice sounds small as he traces his fingers over more of Bucky’s ink.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I kept myself safe,” Bucky replies in a whisper as he runs his hand over Sam’s hair. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Silence passes around them for a beat before Sam speaks once more. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“What about this one,” he says, pointing to Bucky’s sleeve. “You wanna tell me about it?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Bucky smiles and says, “How about I tell you about one tattoo at a time, every time I see you again?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You wanna see me again?” asks Sam.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yeah,” Bucky replies as he trails his fingers down Sam’s neck and back. “Do you wanna see me?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Sam shifts, lifts his head, and then brings his lips to Bucky’s before pulling away and whispering, “You’re all I want to see.”</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next time, Jealous Bucky enters the chat. </p>
<p>Have this snippet:</p>
<p>The Albanians have left and Bucky stands while sipping his drink in the upstairs VIP area of Thrash. He glances out across the heaving, sweating throngs of revelers. The pulsing, harsh music isn't so invasive in his private area. He scans the crowd again as someone catches his eye near the bar. There's no mistaking him: It's Sam Wilson. Bucky narrows his eyes and watches. Sam has some nerve showing up at Bucky's spot after not replying to any of his messages. Sam has a lot of nerve showing up, period. Bucky's annoyed with the whole situation. He thought he could have his cake and eat it, too. Thought he could still fuck Sam Wilson while trying to figure out if he needed to -- Bucky doesn't finish that train of thought because something else grabs his attention. A good-looking young man approaches Sam. He's leaning in close to Sam's ear and saying something. Bucky's gaze is fixed on the pair and something stirs in his stomach. Sam laughs at something the other guy has said. Sam is laughing and smiling and pressing his hand to the the other man's chest. Bucky feels the ire rise up inside of him. He feels the utter jealousy engulf him. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like some other man making Sam laugh and smile. He swallows his drink, checks that his handgun is in his holster, and makes his way down to the bar.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sam and Bucky just keep running into one another...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>42<sup>nd</sup> Precinct, The Bronx 4:30 PM</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“Who’s this?” asks Misty as Colleen leads the young woman through the Station.</p>
<p>“Possible witness in the Baranov case,” Colleen replies.</p>
<p>Misty stops what she is doing and follows her partner into one of the interview rooms. The three women take a seat. The witness looks scared and somewhat dishevelled. She is skittish and chews nervously on her nails.</p>
<p>“Can I get you something, miss?” asks Misty, giving her a soft look.</p>
<p>“We’ll need an interpreter,” says Colleen. “Seems she only speaks Russian.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>xXxXx</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Private Residence, Brooklyn 6:48 PM</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Winnie Barnes leans against the doorjamb of her ex-husband’s home office. She watches her son with fondness as he reads a bunch of files. He has taken them from the safe that sits behind a black and white photograph of a morose, stern looking man. Bucky’s grandfather, he has been told. They have the same icy blue eyes. Bucky is named after him.</p>
<p>“I hope you’re not going to spend too long working,” she says, and it is more of a statement than it is a question.</p>
<p>“No, Mama,” Bucky replies as he lifts his gaze and offers a warm smile. “I won’t be too much longer.”</p>
<p>“Good, dinner’s almost ready,” she proffers before adding, “And Paul should be here, soon.”</p>
<p>Bucky feels his jaw clench involuntarily. The Preacher is coming to dinner with them. Bucky can vaguely recall that happening when he was young, friends of his father coming to their family home to eat with them. He doesn’t know if Paul Wilson coming by is a frequent occurrence with his mother, considering his mother and father were not on good terms after their separation. This is yet another thing that brings Bucky confusion. He feels as if he has been gone for too long. So many relationships have changed, and he fears that it has been for the worst.</p>
<p>He nods his head and gives his mother another smile.</p>
<p>“I won’t be long, Mama,” he says sweetly, as he watches her walk away.</p>
<p>Bucky has yet to speak with The Preacher face-to-face. He will take this chance to gauge whether or not he thinks The Preacher is hiding something. He likes to think of himself as a pretty good judge of character. He also knows that The Preacher is a master in the art of subterfuge. There is no way he could be a successful criminal, flying under the radar for so long, without being able to deceive others.  Which leads Bucky to another thought that has been weighing on his mind: Does Sam know anything about his father’s death?</p>
<p>It is probably not something he should broach with Sam at the present time. If they were able to get someone close enough to hit the older Baranov, then they could do the exact same to the younger. It’s not as if he can ask Sam outright. Sam isn’t responding to his texts. Still seems upset about Bucky leaving the morning after they slept together without so much as a word. For the first time in a long time, Bucky seems to regret his actions. Still, he could very well have been sleeping with someone he needs to kill.</p>
<p>He shakes the thought from his mind and looks down at his phone. The abandoned message thread between himself and Sam sits there. A reminder of their instant attraction and connection, but also of things that Bucky shouldn’t want and cannot have. He lets out a sigh, places the files back in the safe, and then leaves the study. He hears the voices of his mother and sister; they are gathering food from the kitchen. He peers around the door.</p>
<p>“Need some help?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Yes, thank you, darling,” his mother replies, holding out a dish for him to take. “Be careful, it’s hot.”</p>
<p>Bucky takes it and gives his mother a smile. Her kindness was always a stark difference to his father’s brutality. Bucky wonders how they ever made it work for so long. Then he remembers that they didn’t stay together. So perhaps, while it is true that opposites attract, there has to be some commonality there for it to be lasting. He vaguely thinks about how he has not had one lasting relationship, then pushes the thought aside as he steps into the dining room. He places the dish on the runner that covers the middle of the elegant wooden table as Becca and Winnie follow.</p>
<p>“Should we invite them in?” asks Winnie, glancing out the window to see the men Bucky has posted at the house to look after his mother and sister. “There’s enough food to go around.”</p>
<p>“You’re too kind and sweet, Mama,” says Bucky as he kisses her hand. “But they’ve got a job to do. I’ll tell them to get Uber Eats if they get hungry. Now, how many places are we setting? Is Mr. Wilson bringing his wife?”</p>
<p>“No, she passed away a few years back,” Winnie explains.</p>
<p>“Oh,” Bucky replies.</p>
<p>“But Samuel’s joining us,” Winnie adds.</p>
<p>“<em>Oh,” </em>says Bucky with a raise of his eyebrows.</p>
<p>“They’ve both been a tremendous support to me these past few weeks,” Winnie says with a gentle smile. “Samuel’s a good boy.”</p>
<p>Bucky nods his head before shifting his weight from one foot to the other.</p>
<p>“Yeah – yeah, that’s uh – that’s good,” he says, before moving past his sister. “I’m just gonna go wash up before dinner.”</p>
<p>Winnie gives him a questioning look as he heads upstairs to the bathroom. Bucky thinks he can hear the doorbell as he splashes cool water on his warm face. He feels something akin to butterflies moving around in his stomach. It’s ridiculous, he muses, feeling like a giddy schoolboy when he is a callous killer.</p>
<p>Bucky looks at himself in the mirror. He runs his fingers through his hair and then turns his head side-to-side. He then smooths down his clothing, even though he is only wearing a Henley and jeans. After he is pleased enough with his appearance, he makes his way downstairs. He can already hear amicable laughter as he enters the dining room. The Preacher greets him with a handshake; Sam with a lacklustre <em>hello.</em></p>
<p>…..</p>
<p>Dinner goes by in a bit of a blur for Bucky. Paul Wilson is as charming as ever. There’s an odd warmth to his smile. Something calming. Bucky doesn’t know what it is. Maybe it’s because he and Sam share the same grin. Bucky can’t remember what Sam’s mother looked like. He wonders if Sam takes after her at all. His and Sam’s eyes meet as they each reach for the saltshaker. Bucky lets Sam take it. Sam avoids his gaze once more.</p>
<p>His family and their friends talk about nothing too serious.</p>
<p>Sam lets out a delighted sound and says, “This is so, so good, Ms. Barnes. The last time I had stroganoff it was out of a jar, I’m ashamed to say. But, hmmm, this is so delicious.”</p>
<p>Bucky finds himself staring at Sam as he remembers how Sam moaned for him. How Sam was so good for him. How he felt and tasted. The sounds he made when he came. How his fingers caused Bucky’s skin to prickle. It is as if Sam can tell what Bucky is thinking of as their eyes lock together a beat. Bucky stares. Sam looks away. The Preacher clears his throat.</p>
<p>…..</p>
<p>Even though Winnie insists that he let her two adult children clear up after their meal, Sam excuses himself from the table and finds his way to the kitchen. Becca finishes packing the dishwasher as Bucky steps inside from taking out the trash. A gust of cold wind follows him through the door. He locks it and then proceeds to wash his hands in the kitchen sink. Sam watches him a moment, but speaks to his younger sister.</p>
<p>“Hey, Becca,” Sam starts, getting the attention of both siblings. “The bathroom still upstairs at the end of the hallway?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” she replies. “Oh, the door sticks a little. Just gotta give it a bit of a nudge.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, will do,” he says as he walks away, half wondering if Bucky will follow him; half hoping that he will.</p>
<p>…..</p>
<p>Sam is in the bathroom after doing his business and washing up. He checks himself over in the mirror. He’s glad he got his father to pick him up from work and came straight over. The suit he is wearing fits like a glove. He knows he looks good. He knows Bucky thinks so as well. Then, he hears the door open after a forceful nudge. It closes with the same force. Sam breathes a huff. He doesn’t need to look around to know it’s Bucky. The other man stands behind him. Sam watches both of their reflections in the mirror. Bucky holds Sam’s gaze and Sam feels a delightful shiver course through him. Bucky steps closer. Sam can feel the heat of his body. He can feel the warmth of his breath on Sam’s neck. He is reminded of how it felt to have Bucky’s lips and teeth and tongue there on his sensitive skin. Bucky eyes Sam’s neck, reliving the same memory as Sam is. He inches closer until he is pressed against Sam’s back.</p>
<p>“What do you want?” asks Sam, almost shakily as their eyes connect again in the cool glass mirror.</p>
<p>“You.”</p>
<p>Sam huffs out a laugh.</p>
<p>“Right,” says Sam, as he tries to move away.</p>
<p>Bucky reaches his arm out and catches Sam about the waist. His grip is firm and searing. Sam almost melts under his touch. Bucky moves forward, drawing Sam’s body against his. When Bucky’s lips press against Sam’s neck, Sam’s head begins to swim. He almost lets out a moan before he gathers his wits. He turns and faces Bucky, whose eyes are dark with desire.</p>
<p>“You say you want me,” Sam whispers. “But you’re holding back. There’s something holding you back, Bucky. I can feel it. I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s there. You say you want me –”</p>
<p>“Yes, Sam. I <em>do</em> want you,” says Bucky gruffly, as he brings his hand up to caress Sam’s face.</p>
<p>Sam pulls away slightly and says, “There’s something holding you back. You’re hesitating. Hell, you acted outright disinterested after we fucked.”</p>
<p>“Sam –”</p>
<p>“Please, just let me say what I have to say,” says Sam, as he backs away from Bucky. “We clicked. We had a good time. We connected. And then you crept outta my place like you regretted it even happening, even after we’ve been talkin’ for a month or so.”</p>
<p>“It’s not like that,” says Bucky, almost lamely.</p>
<p>“Yeah, it is,” says Sam. “Shit. I’m not askin’ you to hold my hand and take me to the prom, but don’t treat me like I’m an idiot. If it was just a teenage-wish-fulfillment-fuck you were looking for, cool. Whatever. I’m a big boy. You can tell me to my face.”</p>
<p>“It’s not that, Sam.”</p>
<p>“Okay, well, what is it, then?”</p>
<p>Bucky shrugs. He can’t very well tell Sam that he might have to kill him out of retribution. It sounds ridiculous as it passes through Bucky’s mind. He says nothing and Sam rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>“You’re giving off mixed signals and I take mixed signals as a ‘no’. I like you, Bucky. You need to figure out if you like me, too.”</p>
<p>With that, Sam walks away leaving Bucky standing there with a semi-erection and a conundrum. He has a choice he needs to make, but he also needs some quite pertinent information first. Bucky stares at himself in the mirror. This was not what he was expecting to happen.</p>
<p>xXxXx</p>
<p>
  <em>Thrash Nightclub Meeting Room, Harlem, 11:00 PM</em>
</p>
<p>The mood is tense. Bucky and a man who goes only by the name of Zoltán sit at either end of the table. Zoltán has two armed men standing behind him. His face is stern and looks older than his thirty-eight years. There is a prominent scar on his left cheek. His eyes are dark and cunning. He leans forward, resting both elbows on the tabletop before clasping his hands together.</p>
<p>“Thank you for meeting with me,” says Bucky, while sitting up straighter in his chair. “I know you’re busy.”</p>
<p>“No need to thank me,” he replies wearing a smirk. “You see, I wanted to get a close up look at Baby Baranov.”</p>
<p>Steve, who is standing behind Bucky, moves to smack the smug look off of the Albanian’s face, but Bucky holds his hand up.</p>
<p>“You’ve had your look,” says Bucky, his cold blue eyes narrow. “Like what you see?”</p>
<p>“I am not a cocksucker,” Zoltán replies.</p>
<p>“Yeah, well, your loss I suppose,” says Bucky as he leans back. “I gotta say, I like your huge fuckin’ scar, though.”</p>
<p>Bucky drags his index finger over his own cheek and laughs. It is dry and there is no joy in his eyes.</p>
<p>“It’s very nineties communist chic of you,” Bucky adds, as he sips his drink. “Suits your ugly mug.”</p>
<p>Zoltán stares at Bucky a beat, before genuinely laughing himself.</p>
<p>“I like you, Baby Baranov,” he says, downing his own drink. “You are very funny. He is very funny, no?”</p>
<p>His men nod their heads as Zoltán looks back at them.</p>
<p>“So, tell me why I am here, with my ugly mug?” asks an amused Zoltán.</p>
<p>“You’re here because you sold to one of my customers,” says Bucky.</p>
<p>Zoltán looks to the left, considering what Bucky has said, and then tilts his head to the side.</p>
<p>“You were not selling to him, Baby Baranov. Someone had to.”</p>
<p>“That can’t happen again,” says Bucky, finishing his drink. “If one of my people comes to you looking to buy, you tell them no and send them back to me. Dead or alive. I don’t give a fuck.”</p>
<p>“I would lose money,” says the Albanian, surprised by Bucky’s audacity.</p>
<p>“Let me be quite frank,” Bucky says while squinting. “You’ll lose more than your money if you step on my toes like that again. Don’t come to my side of town uninvited, and I won’t need to come to yours.”</p>
<p>Zoltán considers Bucky’s threat a moment before Bucky continues speaking.</p>
<p>“I know you think you could go to war with me,” says Bucky, staring the other man dead in his eyes. “But you can’t. I have more soldiers; more firepower; more friends. The Bratva shit all over whoever the fuck you’re selling for. You can’t possibly win against us. So, respect my wishes and life will be good for both of us.”</p>
<p>After a moment, Zoltán nods his head and raises both hands.</p>
<p>“You are right,” he concedes. “I will not sell to anyone you do not wish for me to sell to. My apologies, Baby Baranov. May I explain myself?”</p>
<p>“Go ahead,” says Bucky, pouring himself another drink.</p>
<p>“If your father was alive, I would not have been so brazen,” Zoltán explains. “He was to be feared and respected. No one knows you. You are untested as a leader. Pierce would have never come to me if your father was still here, and I would never have sold to him. What you did, the gift you left at his children’s school, that shows you are willing to do what it takes, and I can respect that.”</p>
<p>“Why’re you tellin’ me this?” asks Bucky, genuinely curious why his rival is being so forthcoming.</p>
<p>“I respect a code, and you seem to follow a code. You are not afraid to get your hands dirty. I like that.”</p>
<p>Bucky nods his head.</p>
<p>The Albanian mirrors the gesture and then asks, “Is there anything else you needed?”</p>
<p>“Do you know who put the hit on my father?” Bucky asks flatly.</p>
<p>“No, Baby Baranov,” he answers in earnest. “But if I were you, I would get someone to find out who might have seen something,”</p>
<p>“I already had some of my people door knock in that shithole where he was found,” says Bucky.</p>
<p>“You misunderstand me. Get someone from the local precinct on your payroll, you are bound to get more answers then.”</p>
<p>…..</p>
<p>The Albanians have left, and Bucky stands while sipping his drink in the upstairs VIP area of <em>Thrash</em>. He glances out across the heaving, sweating throngs of revelers. The harsh, pulsing music isn't so invasive in his private area. He scans the crowd again as someone catches his eye near the bar. There's no mistaking him: It's Sam Wilson. Bucky narrows his eyes and watches. Sam has some nerve showing up at Bucky's spot after not replying to any of his messages. Sam has a lot of nerve showing up, period. Bucky's annoyed with the whole situation. He thought he could have his cake and eat it, too. Thought he could still fuck Sam Wilson while trying to figure out if he needed to – Bucky doesn't finish that train of thought because something else grabs his attention. A good-looking young man approaches Sam. He's leaning in close to Sam's ear and saying something. Bucky's gaze is fixed on the pair and something stirs in his stomach. Sam laughs at something the other guy has said. Sam is laughing and smiling and pressing his hand to the other man's chest. Bucky feels the ire rise up inside of him. He feels the utter jealousy engulf him. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like some other man making Sam laugh and smile. He swallows his drink, checks that his handgun is in his holster, and makes his way down to the bar.</p>
<p>Something about Bucky’s stance when he walks makes people get out of the way. It’s like a path is cleared between the partygoers as Bucky strides toward Sam and the mystery man. Bucky keeps his eyes trained on them; Sam only notices Bucky at the last minute when he steps to the guy and says, “Move.”</p>
<p>The guy who was just about to buy Sam a drink gives Bucky a dubious look and says, “Can’t you see we’re talkin’ here? What the fuck’s your problem, buddy?”</p>
<p>“Really?” says Sam before Bucky holds up his hand.</p>
<p>“You talkin’ to <em>him</em> is my problem,” Bucky replies, gesturing to Sam, who’s now rolling his eyes. “Now leave.”</p>
<p>“Whatever, dude,” the stranger replies, lifting his glass to his lips; Bucky smacks it from his hand. “What the fuck?”</p>
<p>“Leave,” says Bucky, stepping closer and opening his jacket to show his concealed weapon. “Or your drink won’t be the only thing they clean up off this floor.”</p>
<p>A bouncer approaches, and the guy goes to complain, but the burly man is already grabbing him by the scruff of his neck. Bucky gives the bouncer a nod, confirming he wants the man to be roughed up and threatened after he is thrown out. Sam is standing there, shaking his head at Bucky.</p>
<p>“Was that fucking necessary?” Sam asks, with his arms folded over his chest.</p>
<p>“Go home, Sam,” says Bucky as he walks away; Sam is fuming and following behind him.</p>
<p>Bucky reaches the area leading to his private quarters when he hears Sam say, “Get your fuckin’ hands off me!”</p>
<p>He turns to see his security blocking Sam’s access.</p>
<p>“Let him through,” says Bucky as an unimpressed Sam stomps toward him. “We ain’t doin’ this here.”</p>
<p>“Oh, really?” asks Sam sarcastically. “You better find somewhere we <em>can</em> do this because I’m not leaving until you tell me what the fuck that little pissing contest was about.”</p>
<p>Bucky sighs and then gestures for Sam to follow him down to the door that leads to the parking garage. When they reach the private area, Sam gets up in Bucky’s space.</p>
<p>“What the fuck are you playin’ at, Baranov?” Sam asks, poking Bucky in the chest.</p>
<p>Bucky grabs Sam by the shoulders and pushes him backwards, pressing him somewhat roughly against the wall, their faces an inch apart.</p>
<p>“I could ask you the same fuckin’ thing, Wilson,” says Bucky, his voice low and his breath hot on Sam’s lips.</p>
<p>Sam can barely focus. He likes the way Bucky is gripping him tightly with just enough force for him to find it arousing. Bucky presses his hard body against Sam’s, pinning him to the wall.</p>
<p>Bucky’s eyes are piercing as he stares into Sam’s. He licks his lips and then says, “You come to my club, after ghosting me, parading your fine ass around, letting some asshole flirt with you when you know I’m gonna see it, and you got the nerve to ask me what I’m playin’ at?”</p>
<p>“I came here to drink,” says Sam, annoyed with himself that his voice comes out shaky and almost desperate.</p>
<p>Bucky lets one hand slide down to rest at Sam’s waist; the other he brings to Sam’s neck. He leans in close to Sam’s ear and whispers, “What do you want?”</p>
<p>Sam brings his hands to Bucky’s ass and pulls him forward to brush their arousal against one another. Bucky lets out a small moan before pressing his lips to Sam’s neck.</p>
<p>“Hmmm,” Sam manages as he tilts his head to afford Bucky better access.</p>
<p>Bucky fumbles with Sam’s belt buckle and is able to unclasp it, unzip Sam, and get his hand on Sam’s stiffening length. Bucky wraps Sam’s dick in his hand and begins to strum him.</p>
<p>“Is this what you came here for?” he asks against Sam’s kiss-wet skin. “Is this what you want?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Sam replies, melting under Bucky’s touch. “Fuck, yes.”</p>
<p>Their lips come together as Bucky slides his tongue into Sam’s mouth. He strokes Sam’s cock and swallows Sam’s moans. His own dick straining achingly against his pants. He pulls back to catch his breath, still pulling at Sam’s hardness.</p>
<p>“Tell me what you want from me, baby,” Bucky whispers again as he kisses Sam’s neck. “What do you want?”</p>
<p>Bucky hastens his strokes as Sam’s breathing becomes labored. He is focusing on Sam’s big, smooth tip, before dragging his hand down the length of his thick shaft. Sam is panting and moaning as Bucky brings him closer to his climax.</p>
<p>He kisses Sam’s face and asks again, “What do you want from me?”</p>
<p>Sam lets out a gloriously satisfied moan as he comes in Bucky’s hand. Bucky holds Sam as his orgasm ripples though him. Sam rests his head on Bucky’s shoulder as the last of his seed spills from his spent cock.</p>
<p>“Everything,” Sam whispers, leaning his weight on Bucky’s strong frame so that his weak knees do not give way.</p>
<p>“What’s that, baby?” Bucky asks as he strokes a hand down the back of Sam’s neck.</p>
<p>Sam lifts his head, faces Bucky, and presses a chaste kiss to his lips before saying, “Everything, Buck. I want everything.”</p>
<p>xXxXx</p>
<p>
  <em>569 Leaman Place, Brooklyn Heights, 7:55 AM</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After finishing his morning run, Steve enters the apartment he and Bucky are currently sharing. To his surprise, he doesn’t find Bucky in their kitchen, but the last person he thought he would ever see, dressed in Bucky’s clothes.</p>
<p>“Hi, Rogers,” says Sam Wilson, as he finishes drinking the last of their orange juice.</p>
<p>“Sam,” Steve replies in greeting. “So, uh, not to be rude or anything, but what’re you doin’ here?”</p>
<p>Before Sam can answer, Bucky enters the kitchen, and says, “He’s with me, dumbass.”</p>
<p>Steve raises his eyebrows as Bucky wraps his arms around Sam’s waist, from behind, and kisses his neck. Bucky whispers something Steve can’t hear, causing Sam to giggle and break out of his grasp. Bucky catches hold of Sam’s hand.</p>
<p>“I gotta head out,” says Sam, allowing himself to be drawn in for a languid kiss.</p>
<p>“I’ll walk you out,” says Bucky, ignoring Steve’s questioning looks.</p>
<p>“It was good seein’ you, Rogers,” Sam says as he pulls Bucky along by the hand.</p>
<p>“Yeah, man. You, too.”</p>
<p>Five minutes later, Bucky is back in the kitchen. Steve is leaning against the sink glaring at his friend.</p>
<p>“What?” asks Bucky.</p>
<p>“What? You wanna tell me what the fuck you’re doin’ with Sam Wilson?” asks Steve, as he crosses his arms over his chest.</p>
<p>“Rubbin’ our dicks together, Stevie, what the fuck you think?”</p>
<p>“What do I think?” asks Steve, incredulously. “I think you’re playin’ with fire, Buck.”</p>
<p>“I know what I’m doin’, okay?”</p>
<p>“I sure hope you do,” says Steve as he pushes off the sink and begins to walk away. “Because this shit right here is gonna get messy. I hope you'll be ready for when it all hits the fan."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>42<sup>nd</sup> Precinct, Bronx 9:30 AM</em>
</p>
<p>The interview room Misty and Colleen are currently sitting in with their young witness, Maria, is much nicer than what they would take suspects in. Even though it took longer than usual, and a lot of calming persuasion on Misty’s part, Maria has returned to the Station to give her account with an interpreter present, one Officer Tsymbalov.</p>
<p>Tsymbalov has a kind face and is able to get Maria to relax further. She wraps both hands around a ceramic mug filled with hot tea and keeps her gaze averted as she answers the questions. From the interview, Misty and Collen are able to find out that Maria was formerly a sex worker whom Baranov had kept, and that it was outside her residence where the murder had occurred.</p>
<p>“Were other girls kept at the apartment building where you were?” Misty asks.</p>
<p>After a moment of Maria speaking to Tsymbalov, he translates for the detectives. They find out that she was one of the sex workers whom Baranov had kept.</p>
<p>“She’s afraid,” Tsymbalov explains. “It was her apartment that he was killed at.”</p>
<p>Misty asks if other women were housed at that apartment building. Maria says that there were not. At least, not to her knowledge. It seems they were all kept somewhere else, at another location, she doesn’t know where. Colleen asks her why she wasn’t staying with the others.</p>
<p>“What was Baranov doing there?” asks Misty, keeping her expression soft and open.</p>
<p>Maria speaks and Tsymbalov translates.</p>
<p>“He was there to see her,” he proffers. “They were lovers. He allowed her to stay there.”</p>
<p>“Ask her why she was receiving preferential treatment,” says Misty.</p>
<p>Tsymbalov speaks to Maria and she gives a sad little smile before answering.</p>
<p>“It’s because she was his favorite girl,” says Tsymbalov. “And she is having his child.”</p>
<p>“She’s pregnant? And it’s Baranov’s?” asks Colleen. “How is she sure?”</p>
<p>After a moment of questioning, Tsymbalov says, “All of the girls were given birth control. Maria has only been with Mr. Baranov for the past year. He is the only one who could be the father of her unborn child.”</p>
<p>Misty and Colleen share a look as Misty asks her next question.</p>
<p>“Did anyone else know you were there?”</p>
<p>Maria shrugs and tells Tsymbalov that she only ever spoke to one other girl, her friend, Kittie, through a burner phone she kept hidden at the apartment. No one else knew, to the best of her knowledge. Collen made some notes and Maria continued talking.</p>
<p>“She says the other girls were all released after Baranov was murdered.”</p>
<p>“Released?” asks Misty. “On whose orders?”</p>
<p>“Someone else is in charge,” Maria says softly, her English quite clear.</p>
<p>“Do you know who?” Misty queries.</p>
<p>“No,” Maria replies. “Only that he is Russian and goes by the name Baranov, too.”</p>
<p>xXxXx</p>
<p>
  <em>Sam Wilson’s Office, 12:45 PM</em>
</p>
<p>Warm, wet lips press to Sam’s neck as Bucky peppers Sam’s skin with kisses. One hand trails up Sam’s thigh as the other cups his face. He shifts closer to Sam on the leather sofa, eager to taste more. Their lips come together after a moment. Bucky wants to fuck Sam right there in his office. He pulls back to tell Sam so, but they are interrupted by a knocking at Sam’s door. Sam pecks his lips chastely and then says, “Come in.”</p>
<p>Sam’s assistant, Avery, steps inside and gives an apologetic look to his boss and then to Sam’s guest.</p>
<p>“Sorry to interrupt,” he says before looking down at his tablet.</p>
<p>“That’s okay,” Sam replies; Bucky’s annoyed expression doesn’t make it feel like the interruption is okay. “What’s going on?”</p>
<p>“While you and Mr. Barnes were out to lunch, a Detective Colleen Wing called for you,” Avery explains.</p>
<p>That gets Bucky’s attention as he makes a mental note of the name.</p>
<p>“Oh, really?” asks Sam, as he gets to his feet and walks to his desk. “What did she want?”</p>
<p>“To ask some routine questions for a case she’s working,” says Avery as Sam brings something up on his computer screen.</p>
<p>Bucky takes out his burner phone and sends a message to Steve that reads: <em>Det Colleen Wing. Find out which precinct and unit.</em></p>
<p>“You put her in for four o’clock?” asks Sam as he looks at his calendar.</p>
<p>“Yes, sir. You had a cancelation. Was that alright?” asks Avery, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.</p>
<p>“That’s fine,” says Sam before looking up at his assistant. “When you say she called, did she come by here or did she make a phone call?”</p>
<p>“She made a phone call,” Avery replies, suddenly looking nervous as if he has done something wrong.</p>
<p>“Okay, well, let her in when she gets here,” Sam supplies, getting up and sitting on his desktop. “Was there anything else?”</p>
<p>“No. sir. That was all. Sorry, again, for interrupting.”</p>
<p>Sam waves him off and he leaves the two men alone. Bucky is typing away on his phone as Sam hits a button on his desk phone.</p>
<p>“Human Resources, this is Lynda,” the voice on the other end of the line answers.</p>
<p>“Lynda, this is Sam Wilson.”</p>
<p>“Hello, sir. How can I help you today?”</p>
<p>“If I want to fire my assistant, is there a way to do so without legal repercussions?” says Sam.</p>
<p>Bucky lifts his head and looks at Sam. He isn’t as soft as Bucky thought he was.</p>
<p>“If he’s on probation, we can terminate his contract,” says Lynda. “Otherwise, demotion is an option if he breached one of the terms of his employment. A month in the Mail Room under the guise of restructure? Then we can let him go.”</p>
<p>“Can you arrange that for me, Lynda? The demotion?”</p>
<p>“Of course, sir. When did you want it done?”</p>
<p>“Close of business today,” says Sam, as Bucky gets up and walks toward him wearing a crooked grin. “Thanks.”</p>
<p>He ends the call just as Bucky plants himself between Sam’s legs and catches his mouth with a kiss.</p>
<p>“That was cold, pretty boy,” says Bucky as he runs his hand over Sam’s face.</p>
<p>“Yeah, well, he fucked up,” says Sam, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist. “I don’t talk to pigs without a lawyer.”</p>
<p>Bucky smiles at Sam and then says, “Got me kinda hot and bothered. Makes me wanna bend you over this desk.”</p>
<p>Sam giggles and holds on to Bucky tighter as he kisses Sam’s neck again.</p>
<p>“Come on, Buck. We don’t have time.”</p>
<p>“Do I need to make an appointment?” Bucky teases, as he stares down into Sam’s eyes.</p>
<p>“Never,” says Sam with a smile. “I’m sure I’ll always find time for you.”</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>xXxXx</p>
<p>
  <em>Sam Wilson’s Office, 4:03 PM</em>
</p>
<p>“Thank you for taking time to meet with me today,” says Colleen Wing as she sits across the desk from Sam. “I understand that Giorgiy Baranov was a friend of your family?”</p>
<p>“He was my father’s friend,” Sam replies, keeping his expression neutral. “You’re working his case?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m just here to ask a few questions about your relationship with him,” she says with a straight face.</p>
<p>“We didn’t really have a relationship outside of Mr. Baranov being business partners with my father,” Sam explains.</p>
<p>“But he was a silent partner of yours,” Colleen says.</p>
<p>“To be honest, I wasn’t sure of who the silent partner was, as they were more of an investor,” Sam explains truthfully. “My father procured investors all the time. I had no idea his friend was a silent partner until his accountant contacted me not too long ago.”</p>
<p>“I see,” she replies, raising an eyebrow. “So, hypothetically, you stood to gain from Mr. Baranov’s death? To have complete ownership of the company?”</p>
<p>“Are you implying that I had something to do with his murder?”</p>
<p>“Did you?”</p>
<p>“No, and any further questions can go through my lawyers,” says Sam as he stands and gestures for the door. “It was nice to meet you, Detective, but I’m busy and your time is up.”</p>
<p>xXxXx</p>
<p>
  <em>Undisclosed Location, 6:00 PM </em>
</p>
<p>The sound of passing traffic is drowned out by the loudly whirring industrial fan. It’s cold inside of the warehouse, but the fan helps to disperse excess fumes. A chair sits in the middle of a small, dusty room. On the chair sits a blindfolded, bound man. He is in his mid-thirties, clean cut, and dressed in his work clothing. He sits quietly, nervously waiting for someone to return. He freezes when her hears footsteps approaching. Sounds like more than one person. They stop, and he hears the screeching of a chair against cold concrete.</p>
<p>“Officer Tsymbalov,” says a male voice. “So nice of you to make time to speak with us this evening.”</p>
<p>“I’m here against my will,” Tsymbalov replies.</p>
<p>There’s a snort and a dry laugh.</p>
<p>“Of course you are, asshole. We brought you here,” says another male voice. “Now shut the fuck up and listen to what my associate here has to say.”</p>
<p>Tsymbalov makes no further reply.</p>
<p>“We know you work at the Forty-Second Precinct and we know they’re handling the Baranov murder case –”</p>
<p>“I’m not crooked,” Tsymbalov says defensively. “Just because my family’s Russian, it doesn’t mean we have anything to do with the Bratva.”</p>
<p>“Calm down. No one was implying you have Bratva connections,” says one of the men; Tsymbalov can detect a hint of an Eastern European accent. “If you did, this’d probably be a lot easier for us. Now, I suppose your family left the Old Country because of the corruption. You seem like an incorruptible man, and I can admire that. Family is important to you, right?”</p>
<p>“Of course.”</p>
<p>“Well, in that case, I’m sure you’ll want to listen very carefully to what I have to say. If you care about Aseneta. She’s your wife, yes?”</p>
<p>Tsymbalov struggles against his ties and yells, “You stay away from my family!”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to go anywhere near your family, Officer Tsymbalov,” he replies, as he places a pistol to the back of Tsymbalov’s head. “But I will.”</p>
<p>“Please, please –”</p>
<p>“Shh,” comes the man’s response as he cocks the hammer. “I will visit pretty little Aseneta, maybe at her job on Grove Avenue, if you don’t listen very carefully to what I have to say. Are you going to listen?”</p>
<p>“Yes. Yes. I’m listening.”</p>
<p>“Good. I need you to take this burner phone and feed me any leads on the Baranov case. Anything and everything. I want to know. I want to know as soon as you know, or I’ll make you wish you never, ever left Russia. Do we have an understanding?”</p>
<p>Tsymbalov says nothing and then feels the gun press harder against the back of his head.</p>
<p>“Look how easy it was for me to find you and get you here,” says the man holding the gun. “And you’ve got police training. Imagine tiny little Aseneta in your place. Now, do we have an understanding?”</p>
<p>“Yes. Goddamn you! Yes. We have an understanding.”</p>
<p>“Good.”</p>
<p>The other man drops a phone in Tsymbalov’s lap and tells him to wait ten minutes after they leave. He cuts the binds and then they both walk out of the warehouse to a waiting car and drive away.</p>
<p>“You think he’s gonna do what you say?” asks Steve as he glances over at Bucky.</p>
<p>“Guess we’ll find out,” Bucky replies, before handing the gun over to Steve. “I doubt we’ll have to ask him twice. You okay to hold on to the phone tonight?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, why?”</p>
<p>“I’m goin’ to spend the night with Sam.”</p>
<p>“Be careful, Buck.”</p>
<p>“Hey, I got protection,” Bucky jokes.</p>
<p>“That’s not what I meant, punk,” says Steve as he punches Bucky’s arm playfully. “I don’t want you gettin’ too close if we have to take care of him later.”</p>
<p>“It’s okay, Stevie. We’ve just havin’ a little fun, that’s all. I can get rid of him if I need to,” Bucky says, though he doesn’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth.</p>
<p>xXxXx</p>
<p>
  <em>Sam Wilson’s Apartment, 8:42 PM</em>
</p>
<p>“Fuck, Sam. You feel so good, baby. So fuckin’ good,” says Bucky as he holds Sam’s hips loosely so that the other man can slide up and down his stiff cock.</p>
<p>Bucky doesn’t know if it is the effects of the amyl nitrate he and Sam have been using, or if his body just responds to Sam’s ministrations like that. Whatever it is, he feels like he is going to melt into the mattress and ascend to the heavens at the same time. If the utter look of ecstasy on Sam’s face means anything, he must be feeling the same.</p>
<p>Sam’s eyes roll shut as he clenches around Bucky’s shaft and moans loudly. He feels warmth spread through him as his heart threatens to leap from his chest. He doesn’t know if it’s from the drugs or from the way Bucky is staring up at him; praising him; worshiping him. Whatever it is, Sam muses he could get used to this.</p>
<p>Soon, Bucky grips Sam’s hips tightly and then fucks up into him. Sam digs his nails into Bucky’s forearms and lets out more loud whimpers. His skin feels like it’s on fire in the best way possible.</p>
<p>“Come for me,” Bucky urges, as he drives his hardness into Sam’s tight heat. “Come all over me, baby.”</p>
<p>He thrusts upwards, again striking at Sam’s spot, and Sam is a quivering, cursing mess. Ribbons of white, hot seed spurt from Sam’s pretty cock and land on Bucky’s ink-covered skin. Sam’s body becomes pliant and fuck-drunk. Bucky flips him to his back and pumps into him a few times before his own orgasm reaches him. He pulls out of Sam and tears the condom off. He holds his dick at an angle that allows him to come over Sam’s warm flesh. Streams of Bucky’s come gush all over Sam’s spent cock as he pumps and milks his own.</p>
<p>…..</p>
<p>The soft light from the bedside lamp casts shadows around Sam’s bedroom as he and Bucky lie there after showering together. Bucky has pulled Sam close so that his chest is pressed against Sam’s back. His breath is warm against Sam’s neck. Sam holds the arm Bucky has draped over his middle.</p>
<p>“Didn’t think you were gonna stay the night,” Sam says, after letting out a yawn.</p>
<p>Bucky presses a soft kiss to his shoulder and says, “As much as I loved our lunch date today, I really love havin’ you like this. I can’t get enough of you, pretty boy.”</p>
<p>Sam feels his skin prickle with goosebumps.</p>
<p>“You’re a real sweet-talker,” says Sam feeling his face grow warm.</p>
<p>“Not really,” Bucky admits as he kisses Sam’s neck. “You make me wanna be sweet.”</p>
<p>Sam rolls over so that he and Bucky are face-to-face. Sam presses his finger to Bucky’s lip and smiles.</p>
<p>“Better not let any of your Bratva friends hear you say that,” Sam teases. “I don’t think bein’ sweet comes with the job description.”</p>
<p>Sam gives him a little smile and runs his fingers over Bucky’s arm.</p>
<p>“Probably not,” says Bucky, as he pulls Sam closer. “But it’s not gonna stop me from bein’ sweet to you. You got a way of bringing that out in me. I like you so much.”</p>
<p>He stares at Sam with so much intensity it makes Sam want to look away. Sam doesn’t, instead he reaches his hand up to stroke Bucky’s face.</p>
<p>“I like you, too,” Sam replies while smiling. “I used to have a huge ass crush on you when we were kids.”</p>
<p>Bucky smiles and lets out a little laugh before saying, “Bullshit.”</p>
<p>“It’s true,” Sam replies, hiding his face with his hand. “I used to think you were so fine.”</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you say anything?” asks Bucky as he moves Sam’s hand and kisses his palm. “Ask me out or somethin’?”</p>
<p>“Umm, because minus the tattoos you pretty much still looked the same back then as you do now,” Sam says. “I didn’t have a chance.”</p>
<p>“You should’ve asked,” Bucky counters. “I would’ve said yes.”</p>
<p>“You are so cute and such a liar,” Sam teases.</p>
<p>“And you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” Bucky replies. “Ask me now.”</p>
<p>“Ask you what?”</p>
<p>“Ask me to be your boyfriend.”</p>
<p>Sam smiles and lets out a boyish giggle.</p>
<p>“For real?”</p>
<p>“Hell yes,” Bucky replies, just as smiley. “Ask me.”</p>
<p>“No, I want your fine ass to ask me,” Sam responds teasingly.</p>
<p>Bucky shifts so that he is hovering over Sam and Sam is looking up at him. All the playfulness is gone as a seriousness washes over Bucky and he is all intensity and piercing blue eyes. Sam swallows hard as Bucky runs his thumb over Sam’s bottom lip.</p>
<p>“I want you so much,” says Bucky as he stares into Sam’s warm, brown eyes. “I want you so bad. Say yes, pretty boy. I want you to be mine. Say yes.”</p>
<p>Sam feels a delightful shiver course through his body. He places his hand at the back of Bucky’s neck and draws him in for a hot, wet kiss. Bucky licks into his mouth and covers Sam’s body with his own, nestling himself between Sam’s legs. Sam moans into his mouth, and Bucky moves his kisses to Sam’s neck so he can hear the sweet sounds falling from Sam’s lips. Bucky thrusts his hips forward and presses his stiffening cock against Sam’s.</p>
<p>“Hmmm,” Sam moans at the contact. “Yes. <em>Fuck yes.”</em></p>
<p>Bucky reaches between their bodies and takes hold of Sam’s dick. He strokes him until he is set hard. Bucky kisses close to his ear before whispering, “Yes <em>what</em>, baby?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Bucky,” Sam all but moans. “I want to be yours. <em>Fuck, fuck. </em>I’m yours, Bucky. I’m yours.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh dear.</p><p>If you liked this, you should let me know.</p><p>You can find me on Tumblr crying over Sam Wilson: @siancore</p></blockquote></div></div>
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